


bloodshed

by without_a_box



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Minor Violence, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3511823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/without_a_box/pseuds/without_a_box
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>aren't you angry veronica</p>
            </blockquote>





	bloodshed

**Author's Note:**

> i think theres a plot hiding in here somewhere

_"aren't you angry veronica"_

his knuckles hit flesh.

_"aren't you angry veronica"_

tables flip, food flies, people run and laugh.

_"aren't you angry veronica"_

there's blood. on his hands, his shirt, his mouth. she smiles. he walks away.

_"aren't you angry veronica"_

he never asks.

* * *

 

He once asked her, _"someone's always supposed to pay, right?"_ Like he hadn't lived in this world long enough, like he had never bandaged his torn and bloody hands over and over, like he never felt a belt, like he had never been drunk, like he had never screamed and cried and cried and watched a shitty video and a falling blur in the background and wine glasses and blood and lilly and and and and...

One day in the future, a magazine will laugh at an angry rich boy playing dress up in white and he will sit by a bathtub and one day he will see her again.

It is not the future. To him the future is some foreign concept that could never tangible because he feels like drifting away on his surfboard with her name on his lips and beads around his neck.

The future aways flinches first, he thinks he heard that or read it, but it sounded profound like so much of the other garbage he sprouts, and its a joke and he thinks he had a point to make but he can't remember.

* * *

 

There is an airport, there is a motorbike, there is a gun, there is a blond man, there is a stain.

He is listing things again. He thinks in the past too often.

There is a screaming boy on a roof with the wrong name, and the wrong intentions, and in the wrong situation, doing wrong things, falling in the wrong direction. 

_"someone already has"_

* * *

 

_"they don't write songs about the ones that come easy"_

Like anything she did was ever easy. Like waking up every morning was easy. Like going to class and smiling and laughing and joking was meant to be easy.

But god, some days she would just look at him, and it was like he had hung the damned moon, and some days he wished she didn't have such high expectations of him, because if he hung the moon then without a doubt he expects it to come crashing right back down because nothing he ever does will be done right.

She is not an easy person to love, to like even. But neither is he. They both made sure of that.

He remembers her at twelve with knee socks and sixteen with a jagged hair cut and nineteen with a smile on her face and twenty eight in an airport. And she never looks more beautiful than every single day he ever sees her.

* * *

 

_"epic"_

He says with the complete confidence of a completely drunk person who's in love with a volcano, the kind of person who touches the iron to see if its hot, who buys a gun, who joins the navy, who bakes pot brownies for his friend, who punches that guy in the face again and again until his skin tears apart it it turns a rainbow of colours to match his myriad of swears and he does it for her.

He always does it for her.

And when he moves on, he does it for her as well because one day he will wake up and realise that ' _epic_ ' does always mean inevitable. And one day he will wake up and realise that ' _epic_ ' might mean a second, third, fourth, fifth chance, and one hundred and eighty days in god knows where....

* * *

 

The hood of her car is warm on his back and the crowbar is heavy in his hand and a year later he'll call it ' _foreplay_ ' because that is how they flirt, using violence and volume and voice.

He blames his parents, his fathers temper and his mother's silence, for the his long shirts and layers, for so many years. And he blames his sister as well, her mocking laughter at cigarette burns and belt shaped bruises. 

 It feels like the whole world is pushing down on his shoulders, ripping apart his insides and clogging up his airways. He stumbles and cries and she holds him, his mother is gone but she is here.

* * *

_"lives ruined, bloodshed"_

 Relationships aren't meant to be easy, if he ever learnt anything from Lilly it would be that. Relationships should drag you through the mud and stamp on your heart and cut down everything and anyone in their path. Maybe thats why they never lasted. Because if relationships are going to bury you six feet under then someone is gonna end up dead.

And when he pours his heart out to her, he wants her to know, wants her to know so badly that somethings need to be crushed and destroyed before they can be built again. That sometimes a little blood needs to be spilt for something to grow.

And somethings take years to grow.

**Author's Note:**

> no, there is no plot


End file.
